


Discovery

by Anonymous



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Gen, Historical, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Queer History, Slurs, but like slurs of the period?, i tried for accuracy but uh this is also newsies so give me some leeway i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Davey Jacobs is a queer in 1899 New York.
Relationships: David Jacobs & Original Characters, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly
Kudos: 13
Collections: Anonymous





	Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry if this is bad on the accuracy part bc do you know how hard it is to find 19th/20th century queer resources for anything before 1920 that isn't a book you have to buy

The Black Rabbit is the first bar that Davey has ever stepped foot into. It noisy and bustling and smells of alcohol and cigars and Davey isn’t even sure he should go in at first. He considers turning around. He stands out like a sore thumb, all pressed shirt and clean pants.

“Kid,” a someone says, from behind him.

Davey practically jumps in the doorway, reaching to clutch the bag he doesn’t have closer as he turns. “Yes, sir?” Davey stumbles.

The boy is shorter than Davey, actually. He has to look down at him to meet his fierce brown eyes. The boy runs a hand through his hair, “You know you’re too young to be in here, right?”

Davey almost opens his mouth to ask what he’s doing here, but refrains. It wouldn’t do to get into trouble here.

“I, uh,” Davey can feels his face heat up, can feel himself grow itchy and uncomfortable. He really should just leave.

“Well, kid?” The boy raises an eyebrow.

“I was told this is where the fairies gather,” Davey says in a rush and it feels like the wrong thing.

The boy peers up at him through his bangs. “Don’t say that so loud,” he scolds. “But it is. What of it?”

Davey looks down, fiddles with his fingers, and looks back up. He swallows, thinks of the thing he’s about to admit, the aveira and the affront. “I think I might be one,” he says and it hurts.

The boy tilts his head to the side and nods, “You’re in luck, kid. I’m one too. But a kid like you doesn’t belong in a bar like this.”

He makes a vague gesture toward what Davey had already seen. Then he pokes his head around Davey’s frame, “Hey, Sullivan, tell the barkeep I’m not paying off the tab today. Got a kid I’m showing around the neighborhood. Just moved in nearby.”

Davey doesn’t argue as the boy grabs his arm and drags him out of the doorway. His hand is warm against Davey’s wrist. It makes Davey’s throat close because knowledge and touch are different things now and he’s so—

“Head out of the clouds, kid,” the boy scolds. “Now you can call me Hyacinth.”

Davey nods, even though Hyacinth isn’t looking at him. “I’m David,” he says. “Thank you.”

Hyacinth turns to look at him then, letting go of his wrist. His gaze is kind. “No problem. I wasn’t going to leave you to flounder. You’d have gotten yourself killed.”

The thought smacks Davey hard and he flinches back. He knows the penalty for being a pansy, has heard about it in the whispers of the neighbor who didn’t come back. Hyacinth gives him a pitying look, “You get used to the thought eventually, David.”

“Davey,” Davey corrects habitually.

“Davey,” Hyacinth repeats. “I think I like that better than David. Now come on.”

He grabs Davey's wrist again, dragging him down the street.

“Where’re we headed?” Davey asks, tripping after them.

“We’re headed to the Hall.” Hyacinth pauses, then tacks on, “Paresis Hall, where we can be buggers to our hearts content. They’ll let us in.”

Davey really, really doesn’t know why he’s trusting this boy, except he does. He’s not quite newsie, but he’s similar enough. He’s willing to teach Davey about things he doesn’t understand, like Jack did, except this time for bigger risk. Really, he’s lucky that this is the first person who spoke to him in that bar.

“Alright,” Davey concedes. “If I may ask, how old are you? The drinking age is eighteen and that place was rather promiscuous.”

Hyacinth snorts, “Pulling out the big words, Davey, like you’re not in the same boats as the promiscuists.” Davey almost says something about the made up word, but doesn’t because Hyacinth continues talking. “Anyway, I’m seventeen. So long as I stay in the corner and eat my snacks, no one minds me. You?”

“I just turned sixteen,” Davey informs dutifully. “A month after the newsboy strike.”

Hyacinth perks up at that, excitedly looking toward him, “And how was that? The strike?”

“It was,” Davey says vaguely, not sure how to describe it.

Hyacinth laughs, stopping, “Fair enough. Enough small talk, though. We’re here.” He gestures widely to the reddish building. “First stop on the path to being a real dandy, Davey.”

Davey’s not sure if he should feel excitement or dread.


End file.
